Chapter 18
The skies had been clear for days now. The winds no more than a breeze, and the sun high and warm. The hours stretched effortlessly into light-filled evenings, and they had never been busier.
Gemma inhaled a deep breath and let her eyes wander over the garden in front of her.
Because it was a garden now, that much was certain.
The brambles and nettles had finally been beaten, and the flowerbeds were slowly being cleared, but each one had surprised her, revealing just how tenacious nature could be.
That there were any plants still surviving was a miracle, but she hadn’t expected there to be so many.
They were thin and straggly, weaker than they should be, but in time, with care and the life-giving sun and rain they now had access to, they would flourish.
The garden was always her first port of call each morning and the last one at night. A time to take in the new day, to pause before the work began in earnest, and then to reflect on all that had already been accomplished.
Moments later, she made her way through the apple trees towards the hencoop, pausing to lean closer and inhale the fragrant blossom.
She was beginning to feel as if she’d been at the farm for years, and it was only as each new thing appeared that she was reminded she was seeing them for the first time.
When she had first arrived, these trees were bare, the ground beneath them covered in leaves and the odd rotten windfall.
Now they were soft with pink petals, and soon the first tiny apples would begin to show.
Each season changed the landscape, its palette of colours and the riches it grew, and it was hard to think that she might miss what came next.
She turned the thought aside and carried on her way.
The future was as yet still undefined, and it made no sense to think about what it might hold one day when she could enjoy the present right now.
Lost in her delight of the scents and sounds around her, it took her a moment to realise what was wrong.
To acknowledge that the hens pecking at the ground should not be there at all but inside the coop, waiting patiently to be let out.
She frowned. It was possible that Willow or Rowan had already been to give them their breakfast, but it had become an unwritten part of her morning routine and besides, they probably would have mentioned it had that been the case.
She began a tally in her head almost immediately, eyes seeking out each bird in turn, knowing instinctively now where each of them was likely to be.
They all had their favourite places. A flicker of alarm stirred her stomach as she approached the door to the run.
Four of the hens were still unaccounted for and she prayed that they were inside the henhouse.
The alternative, which was inside the stomach of Mr Fox, didn’t bear thinking about.
She hardly dared look, her imagination more than capable of conjuring up the image which might greet her, but she was quickly reassured that all was well.
The dirt floor looked as it always had, a scattering of feathers as was the norm, but nothing worse.
And, as she neared the house, Myrtle popped up from behind it, followed in quick succession by Henrietta, Floss and Daisy. Everyone was safe.
Despite the number of times she had closed up the hens for the night, she still lived in fear of failing to secure the door properly.
Depending on the weather, the bolt was occasionally stiff and hard to pull across the closure, or, on the drier and warmer days of late, it slid easily and she worried that it would work its way open.
She always made sure that the bolt was all the way home, and that the handle pointed downward providing even more security, so what could have happened the night before to allow the door to swing open?
Had she just forgotten to double-check it?
Had her mind been so occupied by other things that she’d forgotten to lock the door altogether?
She hurried to the nest boxes to see if the eggs had already been collected, but, as she suspected, several lay waiting for her.
No one had been over to feed the hens as yet, and the thought of what might have greeted her this morning made her stomach churn.
The impact of their loss would have been bad enough, but the thought of them meeting such a cruel and violent end was almost too much to bear.
They had had a very lucky escape and she offered up a silent prayer of thanks.
It wasn’t until she was almost back at the house that she remembered it hadn’t been her who had shut the hens away the night before, it had been Leo.
She’d been about to, but Willow had been in the middle of showing her how to turn the heel on a pair of socks she’d been knitting and he had offered to go in her place.
Surely Leo wouldn’t have left the door improperly secured?
He knew the importance of it just as well as she did.
She pushed the kitchen door open, deep in thought.
To her surprise, Leo was sitting at the table and her greeting faltered in her throat. He was peering at what looked like a lump of blue plastic in his hands.
‘Is everything okay?’ she asked.
‘Yeah, you? You look a bit preoccupied.’
‘Sorry, I was miles away. I’ve got flowers on the brain.’ It wasn’t a complete lie.
He smiled. ‘I’ve got wires on mine.’
She crossed to the sink and ran a little water into the bowl to clean the eggs.
‘So what’s with the wires?’ she asked. ‘I probably won’t understand even if you explain it to me, but…’
‘I’m not sure I can explain it,’ answered Leo.
‘Not because you wouldn’t have a clue what I’m talking about, but because I don’t understand it myself.
’ He held up the lump of plastic in his hand.
‘This little beauty is a charge controller which, as its name suggests, manages the power from the solar panels to the batteries. It’s a pretty vital piece of kit because, not only does it help prolong the life of the batteries, it keeps everything nice and safe, too.
Nice and even, nice and regular.’ He scratched his head.
‘And, for some reason, despite wiring everything up, they’re not working properly.
They’re not the only thing either, but I can’t work out what I’ve done wrong. ’
‘Oh…’ Gemma turned around. ‘Probably not something I can help with then, sorry.’
Leo smiled. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll sort it out. It’s just frustrating. How are your flowers doing?’
‘They’re coming along nicely,’ she said. ‘But, like always, I’m impatient with the speed at which things are progressing. I promised Willow I’d help her with the planting for a couple of hours this morning, so I won’t get back to the garden until later. It can’t be helped, it’s just…’
‘Frustrating?’ supplied Leo, echoing his own words. ‘You’ve got Ashley helping though, haven’t you? Can’t she work with Willow instead of you?’
‘I’m not sure that’s fair. I asked her to help me with the garden, not be at everyone else’s beck and call. It was partly down to her we found it in the first place.’
Leo tipped his head to one side. ‘True, but she always seems very interested in everything else going on here. I’m sure she wouldn’t mind.’
Gemma rinsed off the last of the eggs. ‘Maybe. I’ll see how it goes. I’d best get going anyway, or I won’t make it over to the garden at all.’
She took a pencil from beside a half-full tray of eggs already on the side and scribbled the day’s date on those she had collected. Now it was full she would need to pop them down to Vicky in the tearoom later – another little job to do. She chewed at the corner of her lip as she stared at them.
‘Have you been out to the hens this morning?’ she asked, keeping her tone as light as she could.
Leo looked up from the table. ‘No, why?’
‘The door to the run was already open, that’s all. No matter, I’ll check with Willow. I expect it was her. I hope you sort your wiring.’ And with that she moved quickly to the kitchen door, in case Leo wanted to quiz her any further.
She eventually found Willow in one of the two greenhouses at the far end of the kitchen garden, grovelling on the floor under a bench. The bench itself was covered with pieces of cardboard.
Gemma scuffed her feet on the floor so she wouldn’t make Willow jump when she spoke. ‘Having fun?’ she asked.
Willow backed out on her knees, taking care not to bump her head. She was dragging a stack of plastic seed trays with her.
‘Make do and mend,’ she replied, rolling her eyes. ‘But this is getting ridiculous.’ She dumped her spoils onto the bench where Gemma could see that they were all cracked in numerous places and scarcely usable, or so she thought.
‘They’re not worth salvaging, surely?’
‘We don’t exactly have a choice,’ Willow replied.
‘Most of the good ones got trampled during the break-in and I’ve already used those I could.
I’ve been cutting up lengths of cardboard to make into small pots, but I’m running out of that too.
This is all that’s left, and I’ve still got masses of seeds to sow.
’ She sighed in frustration. ‘It takes forever – time I could use planting something else.’
‘Maybe it’s something we could do of an evening? It would save a lot of time.’
Willow raised her eyebrows, smiling. ‘Bored with your socks already?’
Gemma grinned. ‘I will admit that I’m not what you’d call a natural-born knitter, but I’m not giving up yet. I just thought that it might help.’
‘It would. And thank you, but I need the seeds in the ground now. I’ve put it off for days already, but I can’t wait any longer or we’ll be in an even worse predicament in a few months.’
Gemma frowned. ‘Worse?’